John approaches a group of subs

Here’s a cleaner, tighter, and more polished rewrite:

John descended deeper into the Vanilla Alternative’s labyrinth of sub-basement playrooms, riding crop clenched in her gloved fist. She was still trying to shake off the lingering heat from her encounter with Marcus. That weak, half-assed switch had actually expected her to sub for him at his fucking munch. The sheer gall of it made her blood boil.

She really hated him right now.

He’d mistaken her for Lina — tiny, sweet, submissive Lina — and for one humiliating moment, she’d let him. Her cheeks still burned at the memory. Worse, the damp ache between her thighs refused to fade. In the heat of the moment, Marcus hadn’t seemed weak at all. He’d towered over her, broad and commanding, and she had felt… small. Feminine. Submissive.

It was infuriating how much that realization turned her on.

“That cunt will pay,” she muttered, tightening her grip on the crop. She needed to reclaim her control. She was not some flighty little fuckpet. She was Major John Pahdrey, veteran, and she would damn well act like it.

She continued down another narrow staircase until she reached her favorite dimly lit lounge. A tight cluster of female bi-subs were gathered near the large purple saltire, laughing and chatting. They were dressed to perfection — skimpy lace, gleaming leather harnesses in pink, black, and silver, collars, leashes, armbinders, and an assortment of gags and toys tucked into spiked rubber bags and chained leather kits. Some wore nothing more than strategic electrical tape or delicate Kinbaku ribbon work. All of them were deep in submissive headspace.

John straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and approached with deliberate confidence. She leaned one hip against the saltire, plucking a lavish peacock feather from a nearby stand as if she owned the room.

“Ladies,” she said, forcing as much authority as she could into her soft, high-pitched voice. “Enjoying yourselves?”

A couple of the subs smiled politely, but their eyes glittered with amusement. Rachel — the tall, athletic blonde John had played with many times — tilted her head, lips curving into a smirk.

“Lina? Playing dress-up tonight? You look hot in leather, babe, but… I’m not sure this is your lane.”

John’s jaw tightened. “It’s John Pahdrey,” she corrected sharply. “And I’m not playing. Someone slipped me a Plus clone pill. This is me now. I’m not Lina. I’m not a sub, and I’m going to make damn sure everyone knows it.”

The women exchanged glances. A short, delicate brunette with a soft face and a dainty pink collar giggled nervously.

“Hi… John,” she said shyly. “I’m Mia. At least for tonight.”

John frowned. “What do you mean, ‘tonight’?”

Mia blushed, shifting on her heels. “I’m on a 48-hour X-Change pill. Yesterday I was Michael — one of the switch Doms upstairs. My girlfriend wanted to see me as a cute, submissive girl for the weekend… so here I am.”

She gave a playful twirl, showing off her petite, feminine body. Her small, perky breasts and gently swaying hips were almost identical to John’s own.

John stared, a storm of emotions crashing through her — jealousy, fascination, and a deep, shameful pulse of arousal low in her belly. This person had been a man. A dominant. And now they were happily prancing around collared and eager, letting others treat them like a toy.

“You volunteered for this?” John asked, her voice tight.

Mia nodded, biting her lip with a dreamy little smile. “I was nervous at first. But after the first few hours… God, it feels incredible. Being smaller. Being looked at like this. Letting someone else take control.” She leaned in, whispering, “And the sex? I got fucked doggy style for the first time this afternoon and I came so hard I cried. I’m not even sure I want to switch back when the pill wears off.”

The other subs laughed softly, one of them affectionately stroking Mia’s hair.

John’s heart hammered. Her pussy clenched involuntarily at Mia’s casual confession, a fresh rush of wetness soaking her. She could all too easily imagine herself in that position — bent over, helpless, overwhelmed.

She **** a smirk, clinging desperately to her remaining pride. “Interesting choice. Some of us prefer to keep our dominance.”

Mia’s smile was sweet, almost pitying. “Sure. But you’re in Lina’s body now. That body was built to submit. You can feel it, can’t you?” Her eyes flicked down John’s leather-clad form. “The way your clit throbs when a real Dom looks at you… The way your knees want to bend…”

John took an involuntary step back, thighs pressing together. The leather skirt suddenly felt far too short.

“I’m not interested,” she snapped.